The Glasses
by Itaweasel-hime
Summary: But there was no sense in denying, least of all to himself, that he liked Rose in glasses very much. He had a new mission set before him now: convince her to wear them a whole lot more. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Doctor Who.

* * *

The moment she stepped back into the console room, freshly showered and dressed in something comfortable, the Doctor knew something was different. Was it her hair? No, he determined, her hair was still the same color, though still wet and up in a haphazard bun. Her clothing was not anything new either, well worn and familiar. It didn't look like she had lost much weight recently either, for which he was secretly glad, even though he knew she was trying to drop a size. She was perfectly healthy as is, and personally, he liked a little something to grab onto-

_No, _he admonished himself. Time Lords were not supposed to think about that, especially not when it came to their companions. He mentally shook himself, going back to his cursory study. He had to stare at her face for a minute before it struck him, what was off about her.

"Rose, you wear glasses?"

She awkwardly adjusted the frames, looking embarrassed. "I usually wear contacts," she admitted.

He couldn't help the grin the crossed his features. "Those look good on you, though," he said.

They looked more than good, if you asked him. Almost like a sexy, blond librarian that he would want to be scolded by for being too loud-No! Bad! He couldn't keep thinking about her like that. The Doctor deliberately looked down to the console screen in front of him, even though there were no readings outside besides that of the Vortex.

"No, they don't," she argued, sounding irritated. He didn't trust himself to look up at her, and check what sort of expression she was making, for fear that his dirty mind would start leaking, and he would be spouting out innuendos left and right. "But they're all I have right now. I'll have to wear them until we make it back to Mum's."

He frowned then, having no intention of visiting Jackie any time in the near future...or past, for that matter. The less Jackie he saw, the better. She always took up all of Rose's attention.

"Right," he nodded. "Of course. Well, I had a few places I wanted to take us, before going back to Jackie's," the Doctor said. He didn't get to see her annoyed look. "So, I hope you're fine with wearing them for a bit longer."

He was glad she didn't notice his flushed cheeks, because with how they were burning, they had to be bright red. At least, she didn't say anything about it, if she had. But there was no sense in denying, least of all to himself, that he liked Rose in glasses very much. He had a new mission set before him now: convince her to wear them a whole lot more.

* * *

Approximately a week later-the passage of time was difficult to gage, in the TARDIS-he still had not brought Rose back to her mother's, so that she could get another set of contacts. He knew it irritated her, to be wearing them all the time, but he still could not get over the glasses. They just fit her face perfectly, and already, he was starting to forget what she looked like without them. It was selfish of him, the Doctor knew, but that did not change how he felt about letting her get contacts.

She knew he was postponing it, too. She was glaring at him from behind the lenses, sipping at her morning cup of tea at the galley table. Her hair, a knotted, adorable mess, was mostly pulled from her face into a sloppy bun, though a few strands fell out to caress her cheeks. The sudden urge to curl those strands behind her ear was overwhelming, and it took a too-large bite of toast to distract him.

"Can we go to my mum's yet?" she asked slowly, in a dangerous tone.

The Doctor swallowed roughly, grimacing as the dry toast scraped down his throat. The tea he gulped down a moment later did little to soothe it. He made a small cough.

"I have one more place for us to go-"

"You said that yesterday," Rose interrupted. Her glower sharpened, giving away her displeasure.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. The Doctor knew this did not bode well for him.

"I don't know what you're up to, Doctor, but I really do need more contacts. I'm going to end up losing my glasses in some muddy bog, and then I'll be running around half-blind. So stop putting this off, yeah?"

The dishwasher beeped then, indicating the end of the cycle, and Rose sighed, getting up from the table. In the end, it seemed as if he always got out of arguing. All the clean bowls had disappeared at some point, interfering TARDIS to blame, and so she had been given no choice but to wash the dirty ones. Of course, she hadn't been able to find a kitchen sponge for the life of her. All she wanted was a stupid bowl of cereal.

She opened the washer, a cloud of hot steam rising, fogging up her glasses.

"Damn," she cried in frustration, stepping back and waiting for it to clear. "See, this is why I hate wearing glasses!"

She couldn't see how the Doctor was staring at her through her steamed up lenses. He felt like an idiot, really. Nevertheless, Rose Tyler, standing there in her jim-jams, her hair a rat's nest, and her glasses fogged up, had to be one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He stood abruptly, the legs of his chair screeching against the floor in protest, before swiftly crossing to where she stood, grabbing her shoulders.

She looked confused through the still slightly-opaque glasses, and the intensity of his feelings, both for the woman he held, and for how she looked in those silly glasses, was overcoming. He couldn't stand it an instant more. The Doctor gave into the compulsion for once, and without much forethought, pressed his lips to hers. She swayed into him, surprised by his rather sudden actions, but he gripped her hips to keep her upright. As he had suspected, they fit rather nicely into his hands.

It took a moment for her to gather her bearings, and then she was reciprocating, her round lips parting and her hot, little tongue coming to welcome him. She tasted like mint toothpaste and the tea she had been drinking a few moments before, as well as something sweet and entirely _Rose. _He loved every second of it, pulling her so close that their bodies would soon mold together completely.

Then her nails were scratching gently at his scalp, her fingers combing through his thick hair, and all coherent thought was lost.

He eventually forced himself to pull away slowly, hearts beating hard, and her heated breath fanning his neck.

"What was that for?" she panted, though he could feel her lips forming a smile against his throat.

He huffed, catching his own breath. "Sorry," he mumbled, "but that was the sexiest thing I had ever seen."

Rose sounded faint. _"Oh."_

She broke into laughter, before pulling him down for another kiss.

* * *

AN: Just something short and a bit fluffy. :)


End file.
